


Limitless

by lesbianneptune



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: F/F, death cw, michiru-centric angst, suicide cw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3970729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianneptune/pseuds/lesbianneptune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alone and lost in a world that continues on without her, Michiru finds solace in sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limitless

Michiru had never imagined that she would be able to cherish sleeping.

As a child, as a teenager, as a young adult, her nightmares had been a regular assailant, a piercing reminder of the destiny that preyed heavily on her mind, of the death and destruction that was waiting for her around every corner. Her dreams were nothing more than a burden, the violent traumas night after night pulling her roughly from her sleep as they ripped her away from anything that could be considered safe or tranquil. Love only deepened the wound. In Haruka’s arms, the onslaught would not dim. In Haruka’s arms, the visions turned only bloodier, only more painful, as the figures that had previously been faceless and unknown morphed themselves into images of the one person whom Michiru actually cared to save, a single soul from the millions she had been tasked with protecting dying in front of her again and again. In Haruka’s arms, Michiru could no longer separate her visions from her reality, the nightmares leaking into her everyday life and flashing before her eyes every time Haruka was in danger.

As a result, Michiru had never slept much, before.

But perhaps, she considered, that was because she had something to lose. Haruka’s every smile, every kiss, every touch in her waking hours seemed to embed itself within her mind, treasured memories to keep and protect, only to be torn apart at the seams the moment her eyes shut. The more she loved and treasured Haruka, the more painful it was to watch her worst fears reveal themselves in her dreams, a twisted mirror of reality.

In the end, Haruka’s death did not come in the brutal mutilations that Michiru envisioned. It did not come at the hands of an enemy that tortured Michiru’s conscious. It did not come as expected, with the hands of fate snatching Haruka away from all she knew and loved in an instant on the battlefield - a picture of heroism that Haruka herself frequently painted over her flaws. It had been a tumour, mundane and dormant, that had taken her in the end. She had slipped off peacefully, they had said, but Michiru knew they were lying.

Haruka had never been able to sleep peacefully without Michiru by her side, after all. Michiru would stay awake, watching her breathe, finding comfort in the steady rise and fall of her chest, all thoughts of she herself managing to rest forgotten in the presence of Haruka’s peace.

Now, however, alone and lost in a world that continued on without her, Michiru had found solace in sleep. Her dreams, purged from fear of death and hate and blood, were gentle and soft to the touch, enveloping Michiru in comfort. Sleep was a much-craved escape from the agony her life had become. Wrapped in the blanket of slumber, Michiru could see her again, could touch her again, could caress her face and sob and tell her how much it had hurt, how much she missed her, how she couldn’t live without her, how she would never, could never, stop loving her. That which had been death was now life.

In her dreams, Haruka would laugh, light and carefree. Words of love and reassurance would fall from her lips and evaporate into nothingness, lost to the dreams that had created her. Michiru would kiss her then as Haruka held her and Michiru would believe whole-heartedly that fate had returned her beloved to her, that they would never again be apart. A voice in the back of Michiru’s mind would remind her that this could not possibly be real, that her unwanted consciousness would soon return, but she would shake it off and in an instant Haruka was there again, bringing a warmth and contentment that Michiru coveted, aid to an addiction that could only ever be satisfied in the limitless expanse of her dreams.

In the end, the real world could never compete.

That which had been life was now death.

When Michiru Kaioh awoke on the morning of December 13th, twenty-three days after the death of Haruka Tenoh, she knew what she had to do. There would no longer be alarm clocks forcing her away from the life she truly wished to lead, there would no longer be friends or family members shaking her awake and dragging her out of reach of the one person she actually needed to be with, there would be no more going back or leaving her or having to breathe without Haruka by her side.

As with everything in life, Michiru was meticulous and careful. A letter she had prepared the day after Haruka’s death lay on the table beside her, every word a dagger in the hearts of the family she knew she would be leaving behind. Hotaru would cry for hours, days even, the loss of two parents in one month breaking her entirely. She would probably never recover. Setsuna would not be able to comfort her as her own grief overwhelmed her, as her own responsibility amplified once more, with her own inability to stop Michiru weighing on her mind for eternity – death was a kindness she herself would never be blessed with. Still, she would organise the funeral, as she had Haruka’s. She would speak clearly and kindly and hide her own tears, lest she upset the others, the children gathered at the front that looked on with confusion and fresh heartache for a life taken so quickly and so suddenly. Taiki would write a poem filled with words Yaten couldn’t be bothered to understand, but they would read it anyway, humbled and sincere in the light of such tragedy. Yaten would wear the lipstick she knew Michiru hated, one last spiteful allowance and a private goodbye to a half-friend and half-enemy. Usagi would wail, loud and brash and inconsolable and Seiya would be frozen in time, unsure of how to respond to her own surging remorse for rivals who had stuck with her for years, now lost to the clutches of mortality. Minako would spit and curse and rage, her hate for Michiru growing exponentially as she loathed her for a crime she would never be able to redeem herself for. Mako would attempt to reason with her, but ultimately fail, and instead resort to an empty comforting presence, providing baked goods and cuddles and knitted garments for all that shed a tear. Rei would pray, long hair hiding a tear-stained face, her shuddering sobs poking out from her façade for all to hear. Her visions would never again be the same; nor would her life. Ami, for once, would not be able to find condolence in logic. In her daily trips to the pool, she would swim twice as far, as though making up for the imbalance Michiru had caused.

They would mourn, as they had mourned Haruka not four weeks before. Michiru knew this. She knew the pain they would collectively suffer, the damage her actions would cause.

But Michiru did not care.

Michiru could not care.

She twirled the water around in one hand. The glass was cool to the touch as the pills weighed heavily in her other palm, a reminder of the task she had set herself, the keys to the existence with Haruka she had always wanted.

This time, she would ensure her dream never ended.


End file.
